


desperate

by venetianAnarchist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Bottom Roman Sionis, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Top Victor Zsasz, ZsaszMask, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22894975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venetianAnarchist/pseuds/venetianAnarchist
Summary: "Was he doing this on purpose? He watched Roman’s face, deep in concentration as he preened over the fit of the shirt. No, he couldn’t be. Roman didn’t know about Victor’s fixation on him. He wouldn’t tolerate it. Would he? No, Victor thought, maybe he’d like it. The attention, the flattery. Having someone like Victor on such a tight leash."
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 18
Kudos: 314





	desperate

**Author's Note:**

> oh hello. it's been a while. have this! 
> 
> it's stupidly long for what is essentially gratuitous porn. let's see if it's noticeable that i don't know how to write this sort of thing anymore!
> 
> title and inspiration for this fic taken (somewhat loosely) from birds of tokyo's song by the same name.

Roman Sionis did not like to be kept waiting. Pascal’s had learnt this the hard way - the menswear store now took it upon itself to close to the public for hours at a time when the crimelord was visiting.

It was usually Victor Zsasz who called in advance. A handful of words exchanged between himself and the clerk; one voice breezy and drawling, the other clipped with obvious anxiety. Victor enjoyed it. Not with the same urgency that he did killing, or maiming, or punishing in Sionis’ name. This was subtler, a slow-burning appreciation for the fear he could hear over the phone-line. His boss activated the fight or flight instincts in every son of a bitch who heard his name.

In Victor, he activated something else. It had been building for a long time. Over the breakfast table as they planned out their days, perfect grins flashed his way in quiet moments, skin peaking through thousands of dollars worth of suede and silk. Sometimes Roman made his head spin. He’d never experienced anything like it in all his life: years that now felt dry and downright fucking miserable in comparison to times like these.

Times where Roman held up a ridiculously gaudy fur coat, studied it with great intensity, and then held it up against Victor’s front as if picturing him in it. 

“It’s more me than you, right?” The crimelord said, lips tugging up in a smile that had Zsasz swallowing reflexively and looking down, away. The fur felt soft and cool against the bare skin of his arms, and he pulled one hand from its place in his pocket to stroke it. 

“It’d suit you, boss,” he responded, and he meant it, because everything did. 

Roman laughed, dropped the thing in a heap on the ground and stepped over it, looking for the next monstrosity that caught his eye. Victor let his gaze track his movements as he weaved through the racks and the mannequins. Then they wandered, as they often did, below the waist, watching that fine ass that his boss always managed to accentuate. Victor hadn’t figured out if that was intentional or not, all he knew is that he could bounce a fucking quarter off that thing. And that he wanted to bite it. 

Far from eager to be caught staring, he turned to the pieces hanging next to him. There was a pale green button-up with darker paisley patterning on it. Not quite his style. Another in red. Paisley was more Roman’s thing. And then there was something else. It was gold, made of linen, with creamy white buttons and a nice collar. Slim-fitted, not too long. He lifted it off the rack, turned it over. It was nice.

A low whistle sounded from behind him. Right behind him, close enough that he could feel it at his neck. He didn’t know how he hadn’t heard Roman’s approach, and maybe that should have scared him. But warm hands on his shoulders were more than enough to distract him from those thoughts.

“Oh, we’re definitely trying that on.”

“You like it?” He tried not to sound over-eager. Like it didn’t matter what his boss thought of his taste in clothes. Like Roman’s opinion didn’t matter more than his own.

“On you, Victor. It’s a little plain for me.”

Zsasz turned when the hands were removed from his person, and saw that the other man had begun walking over to the dressing rooms. An attendant, who was doing her very best not to draw attention to herself, held a few pieces that the boss had picked out.

Victor made his way over as well. There were two rooms. Perfect, he figured, as he slunk on into one of them and drew the curtain. It was very rare that he found anything for himself. Usually he didn’t bother looking. Pascal’s was too high-end for him; blood stains didn’t really vibe with their gaudy fucking fabric. 

His thoughts cut off when the curtain was wrenched open again. Roman walked in, now holding his selections. Had he forgotten something?

“I want to see what it looks like,” he said, by way of explanation, and Victor hardly had time to react before he was being crowded against the mirror. His heart skipped a beat. He knew in that moment that if anyone else had invaded his space like that, he’d have killed them on the goddamn spot. For the audacity, or purely out of instinct. No one dared to move him around like that if they didn’t want a knife to the throat.

None of that applied when it came to Roman Sionis. He watched with a dazed sort of wonder as gloved fingers began to make deft work of the buttons on Victor's shirt.

“I found some fucking gold out there.” One button, two. “You’re not going to believe the velvet riding jacket. It’s like if that Armani suit fucked my custom gold tailcoat and had a pretty fucking velvet lovechild.” Victor wasn’t sure why this was happening.

“Sounds amazing, boss,” he responded, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt as the last button slid from its hole and left him feeling exposed. He tensed slightly, trying to keep still. Roman paused, brushed back one half of the shirt to expose the mass of scars over his chest.

“God, I love these,” the crimelord said, with a kind of reverence usually reserved for the things he displayed in his penthouse.

His skin prickled as smooth leather ran over it, tracing the shapes his knife had made. Roman was standing so close that Victor could hear him breathing, could watch the way his pretty blue eyes admired his body. He could feel himself getting hard and he couldn’t blame himself for it at all.

“You’ll have to let me do one some time. Or is that against the rules?” Roman laughed, a fucking glorious sound, and Victor watched his lips with a keen desperation that was growing by the second.

“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess it’s not against the rules,” he lied, because the idea of Sionis carving him up with his favourite knife was enough to have the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Humming, his boss pushed the rest of the shirt off his shoulders, and Zsasz let it fall to the floor without a care in the world. He wanted to be touched more. He wanted, if he let himself think about it for more than a scant second, to push Roman against the wall and suck on his throat and rip off his expensive clothes and fuck him til he cried. Happy tears. He didn’t really want to hurt him. Only mark him up, make him feel good, let him know how much Zsasz -

“This is going to be one of the nicest things I’ve seen you in. Arms up.”

Victor did as he was told. The shirt was slipped over his arms, adjusted accordingly. Roman buttoned it up, then smoothed his hand down the front. Zsasz tried not to react when the contact came dangerously close to his hard-on.

Was he doing this on purpose? He watched Roman’s face, deep in concentration as he preened over the fit of the shirt. No, he couldn’t be. Roman didn’t know about Victor’s fixation on him. He wouldn’t tolerate it. Would he? No, Victor thought, maybe he’d like it. The attention, the flattery. Having someone like Victor on such a tight leash.

“Oh yeah. This is wonderful, Victor.”

That’s when things took another turn. While Victor was absorbing the praise, Roman seemed to decide that he wanted to see the shirt tucked in. And so, without warning, he shoved his hands - and the shirt, Victor should stress - under the waistband of Victor’s pants. Zsasz bit down hard on his tongue, felt blood spill hot and salty in his mouth, and succeeded in not making a goddamn sound. 

The predatory urges stirred restlessly within him, standing stoic but pliable as clever hands felt firmly along his hips, his groin, then back behind to his ass. He’d never been handled so domestically. Roman removed his hands, looked Victor up and down with a pouting expression. Victor met his eyes and felt a hot shiver run the length of his spine. There was something in those eyes that he couldn’t place. 

Moving in close again, Roman ran his hands along Victor’s sides. 

“It’s better tucked in.” He was turned, bodily, towards the mirror, with Roman pressed against his back. He could feel the firm lines of him, the warmth. The dressing room wasn’t small enough to warrant this. “You like?” 

He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. He wanted more. “Yeah, boss,” he responded, hardly recognising his own voice - it was hoarse and harsh and filled with so much desire that it practically dripped from his words. When Roman spoke again, he could feel the rumble of his words reverberating against his back.

“Then consider it paid for. Try not to get this one bloody and gross.”

And then the pressure was gone, and Roman stepped back, and Zsasz felt himself throb with the loss of contact. This was all too much. He had to get out of this fucking room before he didn’t something he mightn’t live to regret. Something dangerous, and -

“Victor, your shoelace is untied.” 

Victor turned back to face the other man just as he stooped unceremoniously to his knees. He made quick work of the lace. Roman looked up at him from the floor, flashed a toothy smile. There was that look in his eyes again. Victor stared back, now so hard in the confines of his slacks and briefs that it was physically painful. 

One, two, five seconds of eye contact. And then he understood.

He bent lower, a hand reached out to catch Roman by the perfectly-styled hair. He gripped it hard, heard the harsh intake of breath. Watched as Roman’s mouth fell open in indignant surprise.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Victor said, his disbelief becoming a rolling boil of anger. “You’re fuckin’ teasing me for shits and giggles.”

Roman had the wherewithal to look sheepish, but he was clearly a world away from guilt. He held up his hands, barked out a laugh. But he didn’t try to move away. Victor wasn’t sure if he’d have let him. 

“That’s not entirely fair,” Roman responded, smiling again, but this time with an edge of nervousness. Like a deer in the headlights.

It was said that when facing down a predator, the worst thing you could do was show your fear. The second you tried to run, or back away, you were done for. Roman Sionis could have used that tidbit of advice. He looked into Zsasz’s eyes, apparently didn’t like what he saw there, and tried to pull away. 

Zsasz snapped. A calloused hand tugged tighter at the brown strands in its grip, wrenching Roman’s head up so that he had no choice but to stare his favourite hitman in the face.

“I don’t like being teased,” he growled, and his free hand went, at long fucking last, to his crotch, palming his erection and stifling a low groan. Roman’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers. Victor watched his mouth, saw him wet his lips unconsciously, and unzipped his fly. It was all too easy to take himself out, to give the hard length a few firm strokes and relish in the expression on his boss’ face. His boss, who had evidently known for some time about his attraction, who had chosen to play on it in a public place, whose pupils were dilated and fixed on Victor’s cock. He had the _best_ idea.

“Open up, boss,” he said, a cruel smile on his lips. Roman swallowed, looked at Victor’s face and then went back to his cock again.

And then, much to Victor’s surprise, he did so. Opened his mouth, tongue flat, eyes closed. He looked fucking magnificent, and Victor had to take a moment to revel in it. He never thought he’d get this opportunity. And he was pretty damn sure, even through the haze of arousal that clouded his thoughts, that he’d never get it again. So he’d take advantage while he could, because Roman had brought this upon himself and he knew it.

He slid into the wet heat in one easy motion, the grip on Roman’s hair tightening again as he moved him where he wanted him. It felt so good that it made his knees weak, and he thrust experimentally, sliding himself along Roman’s tongue. Front teeth grazed him, causing a low whine to fall unbidden from his lips. He thrust again, setting a slow, easy pace as he adjusted to the feeling. Roman stayed still, eyes sliding open again to meet Zsasz’s gaze, and he could have come just from that. It was even better when Roman’s hands came up to rest on his hips, steadying himself there as he threatened to topple over.

“You look so fuckin’ good with a cock in your mouth,” he managed, thrusts stuttering as he picked up the speed, felt heat pooling all tight and heavy in his gut. Roman did. He looked wrecked, nothing like his usual put-together self. Victor allowed himself to go deeper, pulling dark hair back and forcing Roman’s head up so he could push further into his mouth. 

He hit the back of his throat, and Roman convulsed, coughed and spluttered and pulled off, and Victor realised he probably could have done that from the get-go. Could have pushed him away and fought him off. But he didn’t. Victor grabbed his hair again, held his cock in his other hand and prepared to line himself up, when Roman spoke. His voice sounded just as messy and ruined as his face looked.

“Stop,” he said, chest heaving.

Victor didn’t want to stop. He wanted to keep going until he came down his boss’ throat, or all over his face, maybe on his nice blazer and that fucking patch of skin and chest hair that he always displayed, making Victor lose his fucking mind every goddamn day. 

“I don’t wanna,” he admitted, seconds away from diving back in, consequences be damned.

“You could.. fuck my ass instead of my face.”

Victor Zsasz had heard a lot of sexy things in his life, from people’s dying breaths to their screams for mercy, or Roman’s voice when he sang in the shower. This was something else. He moaned out loud, felt his hips buck entirely of their own volition.

“Here?” He asked, entirely disbelieving.

“No, not fucking here! Take me home and fuck me into the mattress, Zsasz. I’ve waited this fucking long, I can stand another ten minutes.”

Victor didn’t know how he’d gotten here. How Roman had regained control of this situation out of nowhere, and was now calling the shots. But, you know… he was talking sense.

He tucked himself away, helped Roman to his feet. And just before they left, he pressed the other man up against the wall and grabbed a handful of his ass through his slacks. The scent of Roman’s cologne, the sound of the groan that left his throat as he palmed him… it was fucking heavenly. He was just as soft and pert as he’d always looked, and Victor couldn’t help digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise.

“Have some patience, Victor,” Roman admonished, but it sounded more playful than scolding. They left the store in a hurry, Roman telling the retail assistant at Pascal’s to put the shirt on his card, and then bustling Victor out of there. How he still walked like he owned the place when he’d just had a cock in his mouth Victor didn’t know, but it was wildly impressive.

The car ride home was the most agonising part. They sat in relative silence, Roman using the camera on his phone to fix his hair while he shot occasional heated looks in Victor’s direction. If it weren’t for the driver, he would have jumped him right there, kissed him and bit him and fucked him, ruined the nice leather seats. But for now, he’d just have to put up with the painfully hard dick and the way Roman did his best not to acknowledge what they were going home to do.

Once they were inside and upstairs, however, the atmosphere changed entirely.

Victor watched as Roman headed for his bedroom, shedding his blazer on the way. He walked in a way that made his ass look absolutely divine, and Victor hurried to keep up with him. 

“No marks anywhere visible,” Roman told him, when they were in his bedroom. Zsasz stood in the doorway, lingering there, and when it looked like Roman was going to go over more rules, he swooped in.

It was easy to knock Roman backwards, to earn a huff as the breath left him. He crawled over the prone form, something predatory and possessive bubbling in his throat as he unbuttoned the other man’s shirt, pushed it roughly over his shoulders. For all his bluster and bravado, Roman remained wordless, neck arched, pliant and submissive. He’d never seen him like this, and he found it intoxicating. Even more so when he realised Roman was hard, maybe had been this whole time. 

He hovered over him, lowering himself on top and then slotting his thigh between Roman’s own. The sound he made - strangled and desperate - made Zsasz throb. “So fuckin’ sexy, boss,” he whispered, nosing along Roman’s neck and biting at his earlobe. He pressed kisses into his skin, knew his stubble would be prickly and rough and didn’t have it in him to care. For his part, Roman spread his legs enticingly, rocked his hips in a slow needy rhythm against Victor’s thigh. That was enough for Victor, and he sat up again, ignoring but still appreciating the groan that left Roman’s lips. He set to work on his belt, pulled it away and then yanked the pants down his boss’ legs. 

Now silk briefs were all that stood between him and his prize. He took a minute to stare down at the man below him, at the expanse of chest hair and the pebbled pink nipples, the hard line of his cock through silk. Enticed, Victor leant down and rubbed the erection with one hand, felt it jump in his grip and heard Roman’s quiet moan. It was so hot he could hardly breathe, deciding instead to press his lips to the chest before him and lathe attention upon one of Roman’s nipples. He seemed to like that, if the squirming and rutting of his hips was any indication. Zsasz looked up at his face, plucked off his glasses and moved them out of the way.

“Turn over,” he growled, and watched in utter amazement as Roman did so. His every movement was drawn out and sexualised, huffing out a moan as his cock made contact with the bed, then arching his back to give Victor better access that gorgeous ass. God, the things he’d thought about doing to that thing.

Patience officially dead and gone, Victor pulled down the silk underwear, exposing the perfect mounds of flesh and hissing out a curse at the sight. Pale and firm and smooth, lightly toned. He couldn’t help himself anymore; lowering himself so that he could sink sharp gold teeth into one cheek. Roman growled, rocked back against him. Having had enough with playing around, Victor spread his prize and exposed the tight pink hole, mouth watering at the sight. “Gonna fuck you so good,” he murmured, dipping his head to draw his tongue across the pucker. Roman shook, let out a moan that was practically a shout.

“Fuck yes, Victor,” he hissed, holding himself up on his elbows, back bowed. “Get the lube. Left-hand drawer.” 

Victor wasn’t one to follow orders in the bedroom, but he did as he was told this time, fetching it so fast that he fumbled with the tube. Roman remained where he was, making the prettiest picture Victor ever did see. He approached again, squeezed some lube onto his fingers and then heated it as best he could. Then, as though it was the greatest anticipation of his entire life (it was), he pressed his forefinger against Roman’s hole and pressed in. He was so hot, so tight, and the way he tensed like a bowstring as he was entered was simultaneously endearing and deliciously hot. Victor pumped his finger in and then out again, enjoying the squeeze, and then crooked it until he got a reaction. Another shout, this one shuddering and drawn-out. He pressed harder, rocked the pads of his finger against that one spot as he rocked in and out. Roman sang for him.

“Oh god, baby. Right fucking there,” he groaned, voice gravelly and deep, music to his ears. He added another finger, listened to the way Roman huffed and whined against the stretch, then added a third. If it was too quick, his boss didn’t say so, just pressed back against him and murmured, “Fuck me. Now.”

It was so hard to resist, so he didn’t. Whole body alight with excitement, he pulled himself from his pants, lubed himself up, and pressed the head of his cock against Roman’s hole. Entering him was like a dream. Silken and tight, so fucking hot that Zsasz groaned aloud as he gripped Roman’s hips. He didn’t ask for permission, just slid out again and rammed back in as hard as he could. Roman howled, scrabbled against the sheets. Victor did it again, and again, trying to hit that spot with each thrust and already fighting off his own orgasm. He was going to make Roman come if it fucking killed him, harder than he ever had before. 

He picked up the pace, reached forward to grip Roman’s neck and press him hard into the sheets. His boss was shaking, rocking back against his cock, mouth open and eyes closed as he moaned so loud that it must have been audible from the street.

Victor had never felt so much pleasure, thrusting up against Roman’s ass and hearing him come apart. His nails were breaking the skin at Roman’s hip, but neither seemed to care. 

Seeking a new angle, he pulled Roman up by his throat, gripping him hard and holding him against his chest. Roman reached back, held onto his arms, cried out and threw back his head.

“You like that, boss?” Victor said, slamming back into him particularly hard and feeling Roman shudder.

“Please,” was the only response he received, breathless and hoarse.

“Please what, huh?” Now wasn’t the time for teasing, probably, but god it felt good to be in control. 

“Please make me come! Touch me, Victor,” he pleaded, swivelling his hips back against Zsasz’s cock as his eyes rolled back in his head - the perfect angle to hit his prostate every single time.

Victor did. Not only because it was hard to say no to Roman Sionis, but also because seeing this man come on his cock would be the greatest sight known to man. He stroked the pretty cock with quick, firm movements, feeling it pulse for a split second before Roman fucking _screamed_ , bucked and arched his back and spilled white ribbons of cum across Victor’s fist and his own chest. Victor wished he had a better view of his face, could only see tears running down his flushed cheeks and the wild mess that was his hair. He let the grip around Roman’s chest slacken, and watched as the exhausted man sagged against the bed, face down and ass up. 

Victor pulled out, overcome, and stroked himself once, twice, three times, and groaned through his release. He painted his seed across Roman’s ass and lower back, hearing a wrecked whine from the other man as he realised what was happening. 

Victor managed to stay upright for long enough to move to the side, avoiding crushing Roman beneath him, and then he let himself slump into the mattress. He panted, sure he’d never catch his breath, utterly spent and more satisfied than he’d known was possible. Beside him, Roman shifted, moved onto his side and curled closer. It was an easy thing to throw an arm around him, pull him against his chest.

“Fuck,” Roman murmured, voice soft and strained from over-use. 

“Yeah,” Zsasz responded. “It’s okay if you have to kill me for that.”

Roman laughed, genuine but exhausted. “I’ll have to think about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to send me prompts! 
> 
> find me on twitter @badghiaccio if you'd like to talk about birds of prey, or batman, or fic writing.
> 
> honestly... not happy with the way this came out. but! idk how to fix it so enjoy. hopefully if i decide to come back to fic writing it'll become easier and more enjoyable in the future. <3


End file.
